I want to live not just survive
by Bookaddict22
Summary: Castiel is a reader, thinker and dreamer. He thinks he is insignificant, inconspicuous. He starts writing anonymous letters to express himself. Dean Winchester goes to the same school as him. Would the charismatic boy ever want to be his friend? (Highschool AU. Mainly friendship, but eventually Destiel.)
1. Chapter 1

If you were to ask someone in Sioux High about Castiel, most people wouldn't know who he was. Those who did recognise him would say he was mysterious. Shy. He kept to himself. He had always been a studious child. He topped most of his classes. He was an obsessive reader, so much so that even during lunch, he would sit in a corner of the canteen reading. He was never seen without a book. Some people were in awe of the amount he read. They didn't even want to read what was necessary, but here he was doing it out of choice. But books were his only companions. And he didn't mind that an awful lot.

He was a much more complex creature than what people saw. He had no interest in mathematics or computers, like the rest of the smart kids. Being brilliant as he was, they came to him easily. They were repetitive. They had rules that couldn't be crossed. They didn't make him wonder. They held no charm. He was a dreamer. He longed for the mystery that his world lacked. So he opened a book and started reading. He read until he no longer saw the words of the pages of the book. The words melded to form the worlds that he craved. For as long as he read, he didn't have to worry about his own life. He didn't have to be the lonely boy who always followed rules, always listened to the teachers and always did what was expected of him. He wanted to be a hero whom everyone worshipped, he wanted to be a rebel whom everyone wanted to be friends with. He felt that he wasn't the kind of person whom people wrote books about, no matter how much he wanted to be. His life was a maze of mediocrity. "How will I get out of this labyrinth?" was his constant worry. So he let himself get lost in the beauty of the words he read.

Just like every day, Castiel came to school well before time and sat down at at his desk. He opened the perks of being a wallflower and continued reading where he had left off. He was beginning to love the book. He had always had a fascination with letters. He hardly ever received any, so they had a strange allure to them. Sending letters to a total stranger as Charlie does seemed like a great vent. But Castiel knew he probably never would do this. He had a love hate relationship with writing. He loved it. Paper was most often his only confidant. It was compassionate. Never talking back but always understanding. And he could at least trust it to never tell anyone or never make fun of his thoughts.

When he was lost in thought, the class had filled up and was now buzzing with Monday morning sluggish conversations. Some of the regulars in his class were there. On the other side of the class were Crowley, Meg, Ruby, Lilith, Naomi and Marv. Castiel did his best to keep away from them. They were nasty bullies. Initially, when he came to Sioux High a year ago, they had taken an interest in bothering him. But once they realised that it was no fun to make the life of friendless nerd more miserable than it already was, they gave up and ignored him. In another corner were Charlie and Becky. It often seemed to Castiel that Charlie was annoyed with Becky, but she was the only girl that the other girl could talk to about sci-fi books, ships, otps and whatever else it was that they fangirled over. Charlie seemed to be showing Becky a new deathly hallows pendant. Becky' eyes were dilated and she had the perpetual frenzied smile plastered on her face.

Behind him, by the window seats were Jo, Ash, Benny, Lisa and Dean. Dean Winchester. On the first day in school, Castiel had seen Dean and been drawn to him. There was something about the boy. He was incredibly handsome, was a star wrestler in the school, and had all the girls fawning over him. He did well in academics too. But it wasn't this that attracted Castiel's attention. It was the sparkle in his beautiful green eyes. The vital life that they held. Now HE was the kind of person people wrote books about. Castiel wished he could be like Dean. The most popular guy, surrounded by friends and in love with life. But his people skills were rusty. He would have loved to know Dean. But no. Was Dean even aware of his existence? Why would he care for a person such as himself?

Every time Castiel saw Dean, these were the thoughts that went through his mind. He was one of the few people Castiel had ever wanted to get to know. It was like they shared a profound bond. The only problem was that Dean seemed absolutely unaware of it. Castiel was thus immersed in thought when Mrs. Ellen, the no-nonsense English teacher walked in. He shook himself and started getting his books out. For the rest of the day, he was so engrossed in the lessons that he thought no more of Dean. Or so it would seem.

 _ **A/N: If you got till here, Thank you! This is my first ever story. I know that this chapter is pathetically small. I intend to write longer chapters. I wanted to see how this chapter would be taken. Any constructive criticism is welcome. Do tell me if you've suggestions for me to improve. Reviews and PMs are very welcome.**_


	2. Chapter 2

"Cassieeee! Rise and shiiiine!" Gabe was Castiel's morning alarm and had been since the time they were kids. It no longer bothered him. He just burried his head deeper into the nest of pillows and blankets. "Oi, wake up! It's Friday-funday. We are sneaking into the bar today," Gabriel said as he ripped of Castiel's blankets, causing him to groan loudly. Knowing from 17 years of experience that Gabe wouldn't let him sleep, he sat up in bed rubbing his eyes . As he slipped on his spectacles, the world around him changed into high definition. "I have told you before and I'm telling you again, I'm not helping you illegally obtain alcohol."Gabriel plonked down beside him on the bed. "Lighten up, Cassie! Everyone does it. You got no choice but to come with me."Castiel knew that once his brother had got an idea, and a bad one in that, there was no way he was changing his mind. So he said, "Fine, but I'm going to complain the whole time." Gabe cackled loudly as he headed out of the room, "I didn't expect any less from you, Nerdyboy!"

Castiel loved his elder brother but there was no denying that he was an annoying git at most times. They were as unlike each other as two people could possibly be. Gabe was fun loving and spontaneous. He loved tricking people, but besides having as much fun as he possibly could in the present, he didn't care for anything else. His definition of partying was going out with his friends, sneaking into bars and trying to get laid. Pretty much what every other 19 year old considered partying. He often proclaimed with a mockingly solemn and resigned face that not being able to get his younger brother to be more like him, or even go on dates was his biggest failure. Hey, but it wasn't that Castiel did not have fun! His definition of fun was hackeneyed. It involved a book, a mug of half-n-half-two-spoons-of-sugar coffee and a 4 hour long playlist of his favourite songs. Ah, even thinking about it made him smile.

Talking to Gabe had made him late for school. So he got dressed hurriedly in his usual attire: a formal shirt rolled up at the sleeves and worn out jeans. Everyday he walked a mile to and from school. Although today Castiel was in a rush, this was his favourite part of the day. It not only gave him time to think, but being the homebody he was, it also was his only form of exercise. Having walked the same road everyday for a year, he was by now familiar with people who passed by. Just down the road from his house were a little girl Claire and her mother Amelia, who always waved to him. And just before he reached school, his mother's friend Missouri would be mowing the lawn. "Hey Castiel" "Hello Missouri" and smiles were their regular greeting. It was a simple routine, but it was familiar and it was the simplicity that made him happy.

The first class was History. The snarky Mr. Balthazar was just what the noisy teenagers needed. He made the subject interesting but if you got on the wrong side of him, his sass would leave even the most thick-skinned student red faced. However, he had a soft spot for Castiel, probably because he was one of the only students to listen in his class willingly. Castiel was just happy to not have any unwanted attention directed at him, so this worked out well for him. The rest of the classes draged on until lunch. As per usual, Castiel sat in one of the empty, secluded tables in one corner of the canteen and picked up the book for the day. The boy in the striped pajamas. He had already read the book, but it was one of his favourites. Bruno and Shmuel's trust in each other was what made him come back to the book time and again. Having someone to confide in wasn't perhaps so bad after all. But if he were to talk to someone about everything he thought of, they would form opinions. They would judge him. And then he wouldn't be able to stop himself from obsessing over what they thought of him. He thought of yesterday's book. Maybe writing letters to a stranger wouldn't be so bad after all…?

Before he could think anymore and overcomplicate everything, Castiel tore a sheet of paper from his notebook and started writing.

 _To Whoever Finds This,_

 _Oftentimes, we all have random thoughts that we wish we had the time to articulate and the right people to share them with. I have the time but nobody who would listen without thinking that this is weird. So I'm writing this letter. I hope someone finds it, because the feeling that there are people wanting to read something of your writing is the best feeling a writer can get._

 _Do you ever look at a woman in the supermarket or a little boy on the bus and wonder and marvel at the fact that their lives are a complicated web of places, people and thoughts just like yours? No person has experienced the same thoughts and emotions, in the same intensity as you have. There is an entire world of words, ambitions, triumphs, sorrows and contemplations that have made you who you are. Had you been born a day later or earlier, your life would have been entirely different. And now, you're just one person. Every single person has created a world of their own and all of these are connected by blood, friendship, love or even the likes on a post on the internet. The magnitude, complexity and intricacies of this design are at the same time magnificent and frightening. Consider every person who has touched your life, may it be in the most remote of ways, against the thousands of others whom you are totally oblivious to because your paths were never meant to cross, or your existences were centuries apart in time. What/who decides this?_

 _Every person has a story. You may have an inkling about the life of someone very close to you, but you would never really understand them unless you lived their life. This letter is a sonder of sorts, the realisation of the depth of each life around me._

 _-Writer on the quest for happiness._

Having written this, Castiel paused, thinking about how he could ensure that the same person who read this letter could find his next ones. As the bell signalling the end of lunch rang, he hastily scribbled a post script

 _P.S. My next letter will be in the loose floorboard by the library._

On the way to class, Castiel placed the letter in the crook formed by peeling dry wall by the lockers. It was quite dark so the letter wasn't noticeable. Good. Now if, when and who found it was left to the fates. The rest of the day was spent in an unusual state of excitement for Castiel. Though he never thought of himself that way, Castiel was a romantic. The thought of someone finding his letters gave him a thrill. Writing letters to strangers may have been cliched, but it was something that happened in books and not in real life, least of all in his. It made him feel like he was in a book himself.

Gabriel noticed how jittery his little brother was on that particular day. On any other day, he would have irritated him until he could wheedle info out of him. Gabe had to know EVERYTHING. But as long as Castiel was in a good mood, their little evening trip to the Roadhouse would be made easier. So he didn't question it. "Come on, little bro. Today, you'll live the high life with me," he said when Castiel came out of his room reluctantly, ready to leave. "Yes Gabriel. I'm sure watching you and your friends get drunk and then driving you back home is the high life", Castiel said, annoyed. Forever good naturedly, Gabe said,"Alright, alright. You always have to be Johnny Raincloud, don't ya?"

* * *

Coach Henricksen was in the gym after school to train the High School Wrestling Team. They had training sessions every Wednesday and Friday after school. After two hours of gruelling training, Coach was finally satistied. "Good job, boys. Keep practicing and watch your diets. We'll regroup next Wednesday. Dismisseed."

The boys stood around chatting for a few minutes, as they did after every practice session. One of them had plans for the evening with his friends, so he said his byes and hurried towards the lockers. He stuffed some books into the locker, took out his bag and slammed the locker shut. Just as he did that, a piece of folded paper fell out of a crevice next to his locker. Dean Winchester bent down and picked it up.

* * *

 _ **A/N: YOU GUYS! I published the tinyass first chapter to this story and went to bed never expecting anyone to read it. I woke up to find more views than I could've hoped for. And some of you even favourited, followed and reviewed. I can't explain to you how happy it made me. Thank you! I was really hesitant about this chapter. I have the basic story planned in my mind but the path it takes to reach the destination, I have no idea about. Tell me what you feel about the letters. Ever since reading certain books, I wanted to write anonymous letters. So I thought I would do it through this story. Is it an okay idea or am I fucking shit up? I have no idea. Any suggestions are welcome. PM and review away! Shoutout to tardis-impala-221b-merlin and Tiddo-mus! Thank you so much for your kind words. And TomorrowsTragedy reminded me to mention that the title of the story is a line from Angel with a Shotgun by The Cab. Also, since I didn't say it in the first chapter, I do not own Supernatural or the characters. Only this story is mine. Once again, Thank you if you read the first 2 chapters of my story. I know this chapter is small, but it's twice the size of the last one. And I'll do my best to update soon. Don't forget to tell me what you thought!**_

 _ **-S**_


	3. Chapter 3

Dean was in a hurry, but natural human curiosity and some strange impulse told him to open the piece of paper and read it. So he did.

 _To whoever finds this….._

For a few seconds after he was done, he continued to stare at the paper. Who could have possibly written this? The paper and ink looked fresh, so it must have been written quite recently. Very few things had managed to enchant Dean Winchester in his short life of 17 years. His father's '67 Chevy Impala which had become his on his 16th birthday, his mother's apple pie and this brother's genuine smile as he looked up at his elder brother admiringly. This, and nothing else. But the writing on this paper did. He had great friends, but none of them ever spoke like this. To think that there was someone in his school with such profound thoughts! It made him wish that he knew the writer. How lucky was he to have found the letter?

Having totally forgotten about his friends, he would have probably just stood there re-reading the letter, if not for the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He sighed when he saw that it was Jo. He was going to get screamed at. Taking a deep breath, he answered it."DEEEEAAN. WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? We've all been waiting for you for so long. You hotshot wrestler, get your ass here right NOW." To save his hearing abilities, Dean hastily moved the phone away from his ears. "Joanna Beth. Hello to you too. There's no need to scream at me. I got a little delayed. I'm coming, alright?" "Huh. You better get here soon." Without even a bye, she cut the call. Shaking his head with a small smile on his face, Dean put his phone back into his pocket. Jo had been his best friend for as long as he could remember her. Just like her mother, she put on the gruff, badass act. He was probably one of the only people who could see through it. She was the kindest and most caring person he knew. There was not a single thing about him that she didn't know. Jo's father had known Dean's father when they had both been in the army. John Winchester had come back home to his family, but the Harvelle hadn't. Ellen had been devastated, but being the strong woman that she was, she had become a teacher and eventually married Bobby Singer, who had been a friend of the families. It was an eccentric family, not related by blood but closer than most families that were. Since Jo's family owned the Roadhouse, that was where their group of friends would hang out on several days after school.

However, these were the last things on Dean Winchester's mind as he drove the Impala to the Roadhouse. He couldn't stop thinking about the letter. He wanted to write a reply but what could he possibly say that would match up to the words in the letter? And would the person who wrote the letters even be interested in talking to him? He was vastly different from the writer of the letter. They were breaking the fourth wall of life with their thoughts. Were people even meant to grasp the meaning of the complex process that was life? He never thought much. He only ever thought of this family, friends, his Baby, classic rock and wrestling. They made him happy. His was a simple life. But this person was special. He wanted to know them, he _needed_ to know them.

Dean parked in front of the Roadhouse and went in. He had always loved the place, with its wooden furniture, warm glow and comforting smell of good food. Spotting his friends at one of the tables in a corner, he went and sat down next to Benny. Everyone murmured the usual greeting of "Hey", only Jo huffed "Finally!" and they went on with their conversations. On any other day he would have immediately joined the talk, but not today. He was so engrossed in thought that only then did he realize that he had been staring at a boy sitting a few tables away. Oddly enough, he was reading a book and trying to go unnoticed while the rest of the people at his table were laughing and chattering. He looked strangely familiar. When he tilted his head of messy black hair slightly, Dean saw that his face was adorably scrunched up in concentration. Woah, 'adorable'? From where did that come? Dean hardly ever thought anything was adorable besides himself. Suddenly, the boy raised his head and looked straight at Dean. Caught in the act of staring, Dean gave him an awkward smile. That's when he realized why the boy looked familiar. He was from his school, they even had some classes together. Dean had seen him sometimes, sitting in a corner and reading or lost in thought. The boy's expression was frozen in what seemed to be annoyance. Dean quickly looked away and busied himself in eating the cheeseburger that his friends had ordered for him before he arrived. Shortly after, the boy left with a slightly older but very loud and obnoxious guy.

The boy joined the writer of the letter in the list of people Dean couldn't stop thinking about.

* * *

From the minute Dean joined them, Jo could see that he had something else on his mind. He seemed to be staring at a boy a few tables away, but not actually looking at him. Then he became jittery. Throughout the evening, he didn't participate in the conversation unless he was spoken to. Ash, Lisa and Benny didn't seem to realize it, but Jo knew something was up. And she knew she would find out eventually. If there was one person that Dean would go to for advice, it was her. If she tried to pry, he would clam up and not say a word. So she let him be.

* * *

Castiel was not looking forward to the evening with Gabriel and his friends. The biker-hangout appearance of the roadhouse should have put him off, but the place was warm and buzzing with life. He was surprised to find that he liked it. Heat of the Moment by Asia was playing softly in the background. Castiel wasn't a fan of classic rock but his taste in songs was literally every song other than the ones he didn't like. The hum of the song was soothing. He tuned out the chatter and sat in a corner enjoying his book.

It was the unquestionable instinct that tells a person that they are being watched that suddenly made him look up. What he had not expected was that the person who was watching was Dean Winchester. He looked flustered at having been caught staring but he smiled at him. Castiel had no idea what to do. Dean Winchester was in the Roadhouse at the same time as he was. Dean Winchester was smiling at him. Dean Winchester knew that he existed. Should he smile back? Should he wave? Before Castiel could decide, Dean looked away. In his mind, Castiel was screaming at himself. You FOOL. For once you had the opportunity to make friends with the one person you wanted to be friends with. He _smiled_ at you and you _glared_ at him. He sighed to himself.

Discretely, he looked at Dean who was now overly focused on eating his cheeseburger. As he was staring, Gabriel snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Whatchu looking at, little brother? See something you like?" he said as he wiggled his eyebrows. "It's nothing" Castiel replied gruffly. "Alright. We're leaving. Come on then, hurry up", as though implying that he had been the one waiting for Castiel. On the way out, Castiel had to pass by Dean's table. But he studiously ensured that he looked anywhere but at him.

That night, Dean Winchester joined the possible reader of his letter on the list of people Castiel couldn't stop thinking about.

* * *

Gabriel had had an inkling that something was on his brother's mind earlier that evening. Later he had seen him intently staring at a boy in the Roadhouse. Oooooh. When he had tried to ask him, he had vehemently insisted that nothing was up. His brother was boring and had no social life. They were as unlike each other as two people could be. But Gabe knew that when his little brother needed advice on anything, he would take his time, but he was the person he would come to. So he let him be.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Thank you for reading this chapter. Tell me what you thought! Reviews make me incredibly happy. This chapter was kind of like a filler, as nothing important happens. But I felt it was necessary. And now that I've started writing, I realize how difficult it is to write even 2k words. I feel so bad for whining at authors for their 10k chapters being tiny. Damn, this is tough. But damn, I LOVE doing it. My chapters are small, but I'm going to post frequently. Any suggestions are very welcome. Thank you to the people who have followed and favourited.**_

 _ **tardis-impala-221b-merlin: I'm so glad it makes you happy!**_

 _ **Shadow9375: Thanks, that means a lot to me.**_


	4. Chapter 4

It had been three days since Dean found the letter. Each morning, he had passed by the library, looked around to see if anybody was watching, and then discretely bent down to check under the loose floorboard in front of the library. Each day, he had been disappointed. On the third day, when he felt paper, he heart beat quickened. Quickly, he stuffed the letter into his pocket and hurried to the boys' washroom. He shut himself into a cubicle and read.

 _To Whoever Finds It,_

 _Do you think that there is a book or maybe a movie about a person who is mediocre in every respect? They mustn't have any great talents, they mustn't have past horrors that justify their mental must be normal people with nothing remarkable about them whatsoever. I'm not talking about characters that are flawed to the extent that they don't think that they are beautiful, but anybody who can see them for their real selves can see that they are beautiful. And beauty here is in reference to the mind and not the body. I'm talking about genuine, real people who think that they aren't beautiful and aren't in fact beautiful. People like me._

 _I want just one story that shows essentially fraught people living their mediocre lives happily. I want a character with mental issues to not have a gory past. I want them to have problems because they are human. I want to know that it is okay to have problems, okay to be miserable. Because it is no fault of mine. No. I refuse to believe that it is my fault. That is what I want: an average person, average looks, average in every respect, struggling to keep up with the harsh, constant march that life forces us on since the day we were born. And they can't keep up because they are, after all, average and the world demands much more than that. So life beats them down and grinds the spirit and motivation out of them. So they are sad and unsatisfied. But it is still okay. That is not the end, because even they deserve a happy ending. Life is not the boss of them._

 _That is the kind of story I want. That is the kind of story no one wants to hear, that is the kind of story that won't sell._

 _-Writer on the quest for happiness._

* * *

Castiel knew that there was every possibility that no one would ever find his letter. So as to not get his hopes high only to have them crashed, he decided to give it a few days time. On the evening of the second day since he'd written the first letter, unable to contain his curiosity, he checked the cubby hole. With a jolt he realized it was empty. _Somebody had found his letter!_

He went home and got started on the next letter.

 _To whoever finds it….._

* * *

Dean was distracted. It was Ellen's class and he always tried to pay attention in her class so as to not be subjected to her wrath, but ever since finding the second letter, it was all he could think about. The writer seemed to have discovered the reason for people's fascination for the worlds and characters within books. Their lives were perfect. Sure, they had the worst of problems. But the characters were always brave enough, always strong enough to face the problems. And in the end, good won over evil. The good people suffered but in the end, they were rewarded. In reality, this hardly ever happens. We try to be true to ourselves and not do anything illegal or immoral because we want to live by our principles. But we constantly see people cheating their way through everything that we have worked hard for. This eats away at the confidence we have in what we believe in. So we desperately cling to our perfect stories for support.

Lost in thought and playing with an empty pen refill, Dean hadn't realized that Ellen had started asking the class questions about the book that they were studying that semester. Suddenly she said, "Dean, what do you think?" In panic, he let go of the bent refill that he'd pressed against the table. It sprung up, flew in an arc and smacked a boy in the front seat right on the nose. Dean was mortified and went red in the face. He thought that this couldn't get any worse, until the person he had assaulted with a wonky plastic refill turned towards him. The boy who had frowned at him in the Roadhouse was now staring at him. Dean could see that he was obviously not pleased. He was also aware that most of the other students were giggling. Next to him, Jo had her head bent and she was shaking with laughter.

"DEAN WINCHESTER. Throwing things at other students in my class. And I'm sure you weren't even listening." "I'm sorry, …I didn't mean to throw that…..it just slipped out of my hand-" "Well, you had better be sorry."

For the rest of the class, Dean didn't allow himself to think of anything expect what Ellen was saying. He was nervously dreading the ringing of the bell because he had an angry boy to confront, and apologise to. When the bell finally did ring, he stood up, took a deep breath and walked towards the boy.

* * *

 _ **A/N: UGHH. Before I say anything else, I'm so sorry. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to smack ME on the nose for the ridiculously long time I've taken to update and the teeny chapter I've given you now. I started writing this story just before finals week, thinking that I can manage both. I obviously cannot. Right after finals, I had the entrance test and interview for the university that I'm hoping to get into. But all that is over now. I promise to update frequently from now onwards. Don't give up on this story!**_

 _ **And tell me what you thought of this chapter. Suggestions and constructive criticism are very welcome. (I love messages too, jussaying) Yeah yeah I know what you're thinking, I'm a slow -updating, review-hungry monster. Tell Dean Winchester to come and get me B)**_

 _ **bentdogwood32, abovely girl, tardis-impala-221b-merlin and Tiddo-mus: You guys! You don't know how happy reading your reviews made me. Thank you so much**_

 _ **-S**_


	5. Chapter 5

"Uhh hey….I'm so sorry man. I really didn't mean to throw that at you. It just slipped out of my hand….." The boy kept looking at Dean with the same bemused expression; creased forehead, eyebrows drawn together. When he didn't get a reply, assuming that he wasn't welcome to talk to the angry boy, Dean started to turn away until he heard a deep and rather gravelly voice say, "Wait. It is not of import. I know that you did not intend to hit me."Dean's face lit up on hearing this."Yesss exactly. Thank you for understanding. I saw you in the Roadhouse a few days ago, didn't I? We've a lot of classes together. Oh and I'm Dean Winchester"

* * *

The last thing Castiel expected in the middle of class was a flying piece of plastic. On further examination, it turned out to be a severely mutilated, bent and slightly ink-dripping pen refill. He slowly turned around to see a very red-faced Dean Winchester stuttering. He didn't even hear what Dean was saying. All he could see were the freckles that stood out in this red face and how cute he looked when he was flustered. He shook himself out of his day dreaming.

When the bell rang, he picked up his stuff and turned to go. Only to be faced with-

He froze. He knew Dean was saying something, but he couldn't bring himself to reply or even listen until Dean had almost begun to turn away, fearing that, as Castiel thought, that he was arrogant. Right after the words left his mouth, he was beating himself up in his mind.

What was wrong with him? Who says 'import'? Gabe had always told him that his manner was speaking leaned too much towards formal to be considered the words of a teenager or as he more eloquently put it, "You sound like you have a stick up your ass". Dean must think he was some kind of nerd.

Well, he was.

Castiel had often thought while writing, that his pen was not fast enough to keep up with his thoughts. It was remarkable how a person who thought as much as Castiel did, in such a short span of time, had so much trouble voicing these thoughts out loud. What was even more remarkable was how impassive his face was as he rambled on in his mind. In the meanwhile, Dean had been rambling on out loud and was now waiting for him to reply.

"I'm Castiel. Castiel Novak."

Seeing the curious expression on Dean's face, he proceeded to explain his name to him as he had had to do to every single person he had met in his life. What he had intended to say was that his parents, who were firm believers in religion, had named him after an angel of the lord. But Castiel was terribly tongue-tied. What he ended up blurting out was quite different.

"Uhh, Angel of the Lord."

Dean gave a small laugh. "Sure Cas, whatever you say. "

Dean's eyes were kind and Castiel knew that he wasn't laughing _at_ him, so before he could go completely red or have a million thoughts of what a klutz he was and what Dean must think of him run through his head, he said "What I meant was, I was named after an angel of the lord."

"I get it, man. I was just screwing with you. "Dean smiled.

* * *

All throughout the drive from there to middle school to pick up Sammy and from there to home, Dean had a warm feeling in his body. He had just met Cas and he already knew he liked the guy. He obviously wasn't much of a talker, and he was very nervous. But that was rather endearing. When he was leaving, he'd said," I'll see you around, Cas." And he fully intended to. There was something about the guy that made Dean feel like he could completely be himself around him, and Cas wouldn't mind.

* * *

Cas was the kind of person who reads everything they write and thinks of everything they say a million times until they cringe in embarrassment and hate everything they wrote, said or did. Saying something stupid in front of someone he was almost in awe of should have made him retreat into the deepest recesses of his mind and obsess over how humiliating it was. But Cas found himself happy. You could even say he was giddy with excitement.

Dean had come to him and spoken to him. Chuckling to himself, he thought that it rid him of the burden of having to pluck up the courage and go speak to the Winchester himself. And though he had fumbled, he didn't feel as bad about it as he usually would. It was obvious that Dean wasn't laughing _at_ him. His eyes had been so genuine and had held no malice. He wasn't the kind of person who would hide what he was thinking. He would call it as he saw it. No drama, no chick-flick moments. That was the kind of person Castiel needed for a friend.

Suddenly, he remembered what Dean had called him. "Cas…." That did have a nice ring to it. Gabriel often called him Cassie, but that wasn't a pet name. That was one of his brother's devious plans to annoy him to death. There was no place in his brain to worry about the shitty slip-up. Cas was too happy. He had to write another letter too. He went home and got started on it.

 _To whoever finds this,_

 _The human brain is complex. It is believed that it processes 400 billion bits of information per second. To the some of us who register the tiny little details and store them away so as to obsess over later, it seems like much more._

 _I'm sure I'm not the only one who remembers unpleasant incidents that took place several years ago and still feels the embarrassment I felt then. There was one time in elementary school when I called the teacher "Mom". All the kids started laughing. I would have done the same if it had been someone else in my shoes. I went red and clunked my head down on the desk and refused to look up for the rest of the class. That memory still makes me feel as bad as I did on that day. Or that time when I was 7 and someone wished me a Happy Birthday and I said "Wish you the same."_

 _There are times when I wish I had reacted better in a particular situation and I go about planning all the alternate scenarios that might have occurred had I been just a little smarter on my feet. Without even realizing it, sometimes this little game would have become so animated that I find myself mouthing the words and playing all the different parts. These are some of the times I'm glad that I'm a bit of a loner and there was nobody around to see my antics. I believe the trick to escaping this horrible, emotionally draining habit is to surround yourself with people who don't make you second-guess yourself._

 _-Writer on the quest for happiness._

 _ **A/N: I just realized that even after proofreading a chapter, when I transfer it to ffn, some shit happens and some words are removed. I shall be going back and correcting mistakes as soon as I can. I'm not super happy with this chapter but my computer messed things up and deleted everything I had written the first time. GRRR. Also, I realize that my chapters are really tiny. But I have discovered that I'm physically incapable of writing longer chapters. So I'm afraid this is how it is going to be.**_

 _ **Disgraced Haven, Tiddo-mus : Thank you!**_

 _ **tardis-impala-221b-merlin: I have been wanting to say this for a while, I love your name. And thank you for having reviewed every chapter until now.**_

 _ **To the guest reviewer who hasn't mentioned their name: I'm so glad you think so. I shall definitely keep posting**_

 _ **-S**_


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